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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30028905">Shivers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toinette93/pseuds/Toinette93'>Toinette93</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Queen (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Altered Mental States, Drug Use, Gen, General Inaccuracies, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, POV Freddie Mercury, Party, Short One Shot, That's a weird one folks, Vaguely set in the 80s</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:47:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>837</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30028905</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toinette93/pseuds/Toinette93</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Exhaustion and a lot of cocaine do weird things to Freddie's brain.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Deacon &amp; Brian May &amp; Freddie Mercury &amp; Roger Taylor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Shivers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Something is wrong. Freddie can tell. He organised this party, he loves parties, all the fabulous, eccentric people he’s invited, the bodies moving lasciviously on the improvised dance floor in all combinations of shapes, forms, and genders, the alcohol flowing, the sound of music pulsing in the background, the people shouting. It’s loud. It’s very, very loud, too loud. There are people everywhere surrounding him talking to him, at him, about him, around him. He’s sweating, his lips are trembling. The shapes around him don’t make sense. Maybe he’s just had too much coke. Maybe he hasn’t had enough. Maybe the high from the concert is going down, and he just needs a bit of help to get him back up. Yes, that must be it, just a little take, and he’ll be right back to being the soul of the party, as he well should be, darling, it’s his party after all.</p><p> </p><p>He could take the smack right there and then, nobody would say anything, but he still walks to the bathroom. The quiet, simplicity of white bathroom tiles sounds appealing. Somehow, he finds it, makes his way through a swarm of people who touch him, smelly and damp, his stomach is rolling from alcohol and disgust. His own hair his sticking to his head, and he can’t stop feeling it on his scalp. The sensation of biting his upper lip as he gets it over his big, ugly teeth get him to the bathroom. He’s picked up smack on a tray on the way.</p><p> </p><p>The bathroom isn’t empty. Of course it isn’t. There are people everywhere in it, like everywhere else in this house. He makes his way to the back of the room, bumping into people, too high to even notice him. He shivers. He needs to find a flat surface for the coke. As he looks around, he bumps into someone again.</p><p> </p><p>“Oi, watch out mate.” The man growls, and a blond head with intense but vague blue eyes comes into focus. Mostly. His vision isn’t focusing quite right. It’s not his eyes that should be doing that, he thinks. The face smiles.</p><p>“Hey Fred, that’s top quality stuff you’ve got here!” The tone of the voice and the white of the nostrils tell Freddie that Roger probably is there for the same reason he is. There is a hand on his shoulder. It’s Roger’s hand. It’s fine, Freddie tells himself. It still feel as if something is crawling up all over him. He really needs that coke.</p><p>“Fred?”</p><p>He should answer something, shouldn’t he? His legs feel liquid, all of a sudden. The hand on his arm gets tighter. It hurts. He should definitely say something. Words don’t seem…</p><p>“Freddie, hey, are you ok, mate?”</p><p>“Perfectly fine, darling.” his mouth decides to add. He wasn’t really planning to say that. He doesn’t seem to be believed anyway. Another head gets into focus. Young and old at the same time, and really, really piercing grey-green eyes. Another hand is helping him down. The tile-floor is nice and cool, but those eyes are too loud. He can’t look at them. He may have said that out loud.</p><p>There is Roger’s warms hand on his neck and looking at his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“John, can you stay with him, I’ll go get help.”</p><p> </p><p>Deacy nods. Why is he nodding, Freddie wonders? He’s just fine. He just needs to sit for a while, and then he’ll be fine.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A bit of time passes, he thinks. The bathroom is emptier. It seems like his head is now hidden in John’s shoulder. It’s better. The light </span>
  <span>and the piercing grey-green don’t</span>
  <span> attack his eyes if </span>
  <span>he’s</span>
  <span> looking at John’s hair. Or lack thereof. Not as much hair as there used to be, there.There is a slightly awkward pat on his back. </span>
  <span>He hears noise behind him again. Suddenly there is Roger again, as well as somebody he doesn’t know in his field of vision. There is also a moving tree. No, not a tree, Brian. Brian looking far more sober that he should and nervously tugging at his curls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>T</span>
  <span>he man he doesn’t know prods at him. Must be a doctor, Freddie suddenly realises. His touch is uncomfortable but thankfully brief. Freddie thinks he should probably stop holding that tightly to John now, but his limbs don’t seem to agree with his brain, just yet. At least, it seem like the world has gotten a little quieter. He hears something about sleeping it off and keeping an eye on him, just in case. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels himself being hauled up, and finds his legs agree to carry him again. Roger has a hand over his shoulder, guiding him, and he is flanked by John on the other sides. Brian seems content to nervously open and close doors and lead the way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>“<span>I’ll stay awake. I’m too high to sleep anyway” in Roger voice, is the last thing Freddie hears.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thinks he’s asleep before he even hits the bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey there folks,</p><p>I know it's been a while, but I couldn't sleep so I finally wrote the last installement of my little series about Queen and altered mental states, finishing with Freddie. I started that little thing on January 1st, 2020. Man, it's been a while!</p><p>It's been written between 2 and 4 a.m. but I hope you'll like it. </p><p>Come say hello in the comment and please don't kill me. </p><p>Take care out there</p><p>Toinette</p></blockquote></div></div>
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